The wine, the roasted meat, and the refreshing forest air nourished their burgeoning camaraderie.
They talked deep into the evening, until the wine was gone and most of the meat consumed. By the end, a profound mutual respect had formed, a kinship that felt long overdue.
Ye Fan found himself genuinely admiring Beigong Hanxiao's vast knowledge and magnanimity. Though the man spoke with the cadence of the common folk, he carried an unmistakable scholarly air, deeply versed in ancient texts and possessing an exceptional understanding of the continent. His insights into statecraft flowed effortlessly.
Ye Fan, drawing upon experiences across two lifetimes – including a century traversing the Tianwu Continent in his previous life, albeit devoted solely to cultivation – possessed erudition far surpassing ordinary men. Speaking now of future insights as present truths, his every point struck with unnerving precision.
Beigong Hanxiao grew increasingly astonished, his fondness for Ye Fan deepening with each revelation. He sighed inwardly, lamenting that his own son possessed but a fraction of Ye Fan's wisdom.
After sharing worldly perspectives, their conversation turned personal. Ye Fan outlined his situation: his betrayal by the Ye Clan, the false accusations leading to his exile.
Recognition flickered in Beigong Hanxiao's eyes, followed by a chuckle. "So you are that infamous 'cripple'? The one publicly discarded by the Lin Clan, the capital's recent laughingstock?" He shook his head, wonder replacing amusement. "But standing here now... this is no cripple. Your intellect, your spirit – they overshadow those pampered 'esteemed young masters' by a hundredfold."
Ye Fan offered a self-deprecating smile. Leaning forward with feigned curiosity, he asked, "Uncle Han... precisely how did you incur the Ye Clan's wrath?"
"The Ye Clan?" Beigong Hanxiao's brow furrowed in genuine confusion.
"The masked attackers," Ye Fan stated flatly, "were Ye Clan members. Their leader was Ye Qingtian, the Patriarch himself. I killed his son. I crippled his daughter. That is the root of his murderous rage towards me." A cold satisfaction settled within Ye Fan.
The die is cast. History repeats its cruel dance, but this time, I guide the blade.
"What?!" Beigong Hanxiao surged to his feet, his voice a thunderclap, eyes locking onto Ye Fan with fierce intensity. "Young Friend Ye, are you absolutely certain?"
"Beyond doubt," Ye Fan replied, unwavering. "The technique their leader employed – that distinctive palm strike that disrupted the very air – that was the Ye Clan Patriarch's secret art: Tempest Palm. A Mortal Tier High-Grade technique. Guarded with fanatical secrecy; never taught to outsiders, never leaked." He paused, letting the implication hang heavy. "I recognized it only because Ye Linglong once tried it against me."
A storm of realization brewed in Beigong Hanxiao's eyes. Fury quickly eclipsed confusion. "The Ye Clan! Such bold-faced treachery! Such calculated malice!" He slammed a fist onto the crude table. "Young Friend Ye, my debt to you deepens. And I shall repay honesty with honesty." His posture straightened, radiating authority. "I am Beigong Hanxiao... the Emperor of Chu."
Ye Fan's eyes widened in perfectly orchestrated shock. He immediately clasped his hands, bowing deeply. "Your Imperial Majesty!"
"Discard the formality!" Beigong Hanxiao waved a dismissive hand, warmth returning to his voice. "I claimed the title 'Uncle Han'; you shall keep it. Titles alter nothing between kindred spirits." He leaned closer, his gaze earnest. "Come. Serve within my court. Talents such as yours withering in obscurity is an affront."
Ye Fan hesitated, discomfort flickering across his face. He met the Emperor's gaze with blunt honesty. "Uncle Han, you perceive my nature. I crave freedom; constraints chafe... But, truthfully..." He gestured towards the simple cabin where Su Xi rested. "If a secure, decent residence could be granted... for my mother. That is my paramount concern."
Beigong Hanxiao's expression softened into profound understanding. This fierce loyalty resonated deeply. "You shall answer solely to your own conscience," he declared. "Yet, your brilliance cannot be left untended. Very well. I name you Prince of Ink, Lord Ye Fan. Your charge? To tutor my cherished youngest daughter, Beigong Xue. How does this suit?"
"Thank you, Uncle Han!" Ye Fan replied, a smile of true relief and satisfaction spreading across his face.
That very night, their carriage rolled away from the Heavenly Beast Mountains. By nightfall, it passed through the towering gates of the Imperial Capital. Beigong Hanxiao escorted Ye Fan and Su Xi directly into the palace's secure embrace, granting them sanctuary for the night.
Dawn heralded Imperial Edicts echoing through marble halls:
Ye Fan is elevated to Prince of Ink (Mo Wang), Lord of the Realm.His princely estate is designated adjacent to the Lin Clan's holdings.He is granted command of the Imperial Vanguard Guard.He is empowered to execute judgment upon the traitorous Ye Clan – total annihilation, with full authority over life and death.
The Emperor's gesture was immense. Recognizing Ye Fan's roots within the Ye Clan, Beigong Hanxiao had woven clemency into the decree – the explicit power to spare any Ye kin Ye Fan deemed worthy.
Shockwaves reverberated through the capital. The "crippled" outcast, the Lin Clan's discarded fiancé, was now a Prince? Whispers became a roar: he'd stumbled upon the Emperor in peril, performed some fluke rescue. "Fortune's buffoon," nobles scoffed in private chambers. "A waste elevated, a stain upon Chu's honor."
Ye Fan stood before the imposing, iron-bound gates of the Ye Clan compound. He wore robes of pristine white silk, the Voidstep Sword resting at his hip, a jade pendant suspended from its scabbard. He radiated an aura of effortless, noble grace.
Behind him loomed two figures encased in gleaming battle-plate:
Left Commander Yang Xiao (Core Formation Level Three), a long spear strapped across his back, astride a massive Waterstrider Rhinoceros, its blade-like horn thrusting skyward.Right Commander Li Zhong (Core Formation Level Three), bearing a colossal greatsword, mounted on an equally formidable beast.
Arrayed behind the commanders stood a thousand Imperial Vanguard Guards in flawless, silent ranks, their armored mass encircling the Ye compound like an implacable iron fist. A throng of onlookers – nobles, servants, the morbidly curious – pressed against the periphery, murmuring, pointing, breathlessly speculating: Would the discarded son truly bathe his ancestral halls in blood?
CREEEAAAK!
The heavy Ye Clan gates groaned open in protest. Ye Qingtian emerged, leading his family and retainers onto the steps. Their faces were masks of dread, impotent fury, and crushing despair. Ye Qingtian's eyes, burning with undiluted venom, locked onto Ye Fan. The edicts had arrived mere moments before Ye Fan's encircling forces slammed shut their avenues of escape. This was deliberate. Calculated extermination.
"Ye Fan!" Ye Qingtian's voice scraped like ice on stone. "Ye blood flows in your veins! Will you truly be the executioner who extinguishes your own lineage?"
A calm, almost serene smile touched Ye Fan's lips. "Ye Qingtian, I was cast out. Stripped bare. This is not my family. Spare me your hollow theatrics." His voice hardened, cutting through the suffocating tension. "The crime is High Treason against the Celestial Emperor. The sentence mandated is Complete Annihilation."
He raised his hand. A thousand breaths hitched. Ye Qingtian's face turned ashen, eyes bulging. Time congealed, thick with the imminent scent of blood.
"Ye Gui. Ye Can. Lin Yue." Ye Fan's voice rang out, clear, cold, and decisive, shattering the silence. "Your bloodlines are pardoned. Step forth. Now."
Confusion, then dawning, disbelieving hope washed over three figures huddled at the Ye Clan crowd's rear. They hurriedly shepherded their immediate families through the stunned, silent ranks towards Ye Fan, bowing repeatedly, murmuring tearful gratitude.
Ye Gui: Born with blocked meridians yet bearing Heaven-grade cultivation potential. Ostracized, abused, shrouded in perpetual coldness and shame. In Ye Fan's past life, a fellow outcast, a brother forged in shared suffering. Ye Gui had sacrificed himself, holding back pursuers so Ye Fan could flee the Ye Clan's purge. His entire lineage had been butchered in retribution.Ye Can: Once the Ye Clan's radiant star, crippled on a mission, his right arm sacrificed for survival. Reduced to menial servitude. In that past life, shared degradation in the stables forged a desperate bond. Trapped later in the Heavenly Beast Mountains by a Venom-Tail Fox's ambush, Ye Can had chosen to stay, to fight, shouting Ye Fan onward to safety. Ye Fan never saw him again.Lin Yue: The guard captain who, when Ye Fan lay broken amidst his slain comrades, had fought through hell itself to haul the shattered boy back to the clan's indifferent gates.
Ye Gui and Ye Can approached, their bows stiff with lingering fear and overwhelming confusion. Ye Fan looked upon them, these brothers who had paid the ultimate price for him in another shattered timeline. A genuine smile, profound and resonant with unspoken history, bloomed on his face – the first true light piercing the gathering shadow of death poised to descend upon the Ye Clan.